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Ransom(79)

By:Rachel Schurig


“He’s probably just rebelling, Daisy. You gave him a taste of the free life yesterday, and he decided he’d like a bit more.”

Before I can respond, his dad barks, “Reed, let’s go!”

I slip into the hallway, closing the door behind me. I hear a phone ring down the hall and turn to see Levi putting his cell to his ear.

“Where the hell are you?” he snaps.

A balloon of relief swells up in my chest. It must be Daltrey.

Levi strides toward the dressing room, shaking his head at me as he passes. “You can tell him yourself, ass. Don’t put me in the line of fire.” He throws open the dressing room door and marches in, slamming it behind him.

I know it’s completely juvenile, but I press my ear to the door, desperate to know what’s going on.

“What in the hell is wrong with you?” Mr. Ransome yells. There’s a long pause then he says, “Just get back here. Now!”

There’s a loud outbreak of grumbling, and I imagine that he must have hung up.

“Did he say what was going on?” Lennon asks above the tumult.

I don’t hear the response, just more indistinguishable arguing punctuated by the occasional shout or curse from one of them.

A moment later, the door opens again and Levi slips out, shutting it behind him. “That kid, I swear to God.”

“What’s going on? Where is he?”

He takes my hand and tugs me down the hall to a small, unoccupied office space. “I have no idea. All he would say is that he’s on his way, he’ll be here before the show starts, and don’t call it off.”

“That’s it?”

Levi nods, running his hands through his hair. “I thought his dad was going to put his fist through a wall.” He gives me rueful grin. “Mr. Ransome is not the type of person to be appeased easily.”

“He wasn’t fond of the lack of information, I take it.”

Levi snorts. “Not much.” He looks down at his watch. “Well, if the show’s going on as planned, I guess I have work to do.”

“Do you need anything?”

He shakes his head. “Nope. Better get out to the table, though. They’ll be opening the doors in a few.”

On my way back to the table, my phone buzzes with a text. So sorry, babe. I’m on my way back. I hope you didn’t worry all day. I’m fine. We’re fine. I love you.

I breathe a sigh of relief as I shove my cell back into my pocket. I desperately want to know where he’s been, but at the same time, I no longer feel anxious or scared, certainly not mistrusting. If he says he had something to do, I believe him.

“What’s up?” Karen asks as I approach the table.

“Game on,” I say, joining them. “He just called.”

“Oh, thank God.” Paige looks toward the door. “I would not want to be the person who has to go out and tell that crowd the show’s off.”

“Yeah,” Karen says. “You’d be mauled. So where was he?”

I shrug. “Levi says he just told his dad that he was on his way and not to cancel. He sent me a text apologizing but not giving me any details.”

“Hmm,” Karen says thoughtfully. “So he’s just been gone for what, seven hours? And no one knows where? That’s a long time to just be taking a break.”

“I know.” I lean against the table. “Last night was really intense, you know? I told him everything. I even showed him my scars. That’s a lot to take in. Maybe he just needed to think it all over.”

“I guess so,” Paige says, but she doesn’t sound convinced. I don’t blame her. It doesn’t sound anything like Daltrey.

The doors open a few minutes later, and we’re inundated with a steady crowd in no time, the throngs of Ransom fans having no idea how close they came to missing seeing their favorite band play. After a while, the opener starts inside the theater.

“I wonder if they get tired of playing the same shit over and over again,” Karen asks, as the familiar strains of their first song drift out to us. The Pat Johnson Band hasn’t changed their set list much in the weeks we’ve been working on the tour.

I don’t fully relax until we’re finally able to close up and go backstage. I pray I get the chance to see Daltrey before they go on. It’s been hours since he left me in his bed, hours of doubt and worry and fear. The only thing that will relax me is his lips on mine.

We reach the back hallway and walk right into a madhouse. All three members of the band are being held back by various roadies, each one screaming and yelling. And there, in the middle of the hall, is Daltrey.

He sees me, and his face lights up. He pushes past the roadies and his father, who is also yelling, and strides toward me.